


Angels Are Watching Over You

by Taybay14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Baby Jack Kline, Daddy Dean, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Jack is their new baby, Married Couple, New Dads, Papa Castiel, no supernatural elements/magic/angels/etc., parenting, sleep deprived parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:30:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: Just a glimpse into Dean & Castiel's eighth night of being new dads. Sleepy men and a high maintenance Jack. Fluffiness ensues.** Just a little something I decided to write to combat the terrible feelings the new promo gave me... (NO SPOILERS, PROMISE) **





	Angels Are Watching Over You

**2:07 AM**

 

“Babe.” 

 

_ Nothing.  _

 

“Baabbbee.”

 

_ Nothing. _

 

“Babe,” Castiel growls, sticking his head up off the pillow and glaring daggers at the peacefully sleeping man beside him. 

 

With a  _ not so  _ gentle kick to his shin, Castiel finally gets the reaction he was looking for. Dean startles, then grumbles and rubs a fist at his eye. “Whaa-?”

 

“Your turn.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Castiel stabs a finger in the direction of the bedroom door and spits out, “Your. Turn. Go.”

 

His husband looks where he’s pointing, propping himself up on an elbow and scrubbing at his face with a hand. He yawns and then sits up fully. “Time‘s ‘it?” 

 

“Two in the fucking morning. And it’s your turn! I did the last three.” Castiel puts both hands on his husband’s back and shoves him off the bed. 

 

Grumbling about crabby ass husbands being lucky that they’re cute, Dean stumbles out of the room and down the hall to the last door on the left. He’s not as good at this as Castiel is. He takes forever before he wakes up to the crying and he never understands what each cry means. He doesn’t know the difference between gas or over tired or hungry or just plain unhappy. 

 

He should have remembered to ask Castiel which one it is right now, but he was too busy dealing with the cruel ejection from their nice warm bed. 

 

“Okaay, okay, I’m here,” he coos, padding softly into the nursery. The annoyed, over tired dad in him disappears when he stands at the edge of the crib and peers down at the beautiful baby boy. His tiny fists are tight balls and his little chubby legs are kicking angrily as he wails. “Hey now, Jack. None of that. Daddy’s here.”

 

Reaching over the railing, Dean picks the infant up and places him against his bare chest, gently rocking and bouncing him as he starts to pace around the room. “What’s wrong little guy? Huh? Tell daddy.”

 

The baby wiggles in his arms and he feels the weight of his full diaper. Excited that he figured out the problem, but feeling like an idiot for not checking the diaper first thing, he walks over to the changing table and places the baby on it. He pulls out a new diaper and a pack of wipes. 

 

Jack kicks him when he tries putting the new diaper on. “Hey, now. That’s not very polite. I’m just trying to help you feel clean, buddy.”

 

The little one squawks at him but doesn’t kick him anymore. Just waves his scrunched up fists and gurgles. When the dry diaper is secured and his footie pajamas are buttoned back up, Dean takes him in his arms again and heads back to the crib. 

 

“There we go. Daddy’s getting the hang of this, hey? All better.”

 

He places Jack in the center of the mattress and brushes a finger down the baby’s soft, chubby cheek. Then he turns on his fluffy white angel mobile that has little angels flying among the stars and watches him coo at it for a few seconds as it slowly twirls, a classical music piece playing. 

 

“Sleep tight, Jack,” Dean whispers. “Angels are watchin’ over you.”

  
  
  
  


**2:49 AM**

 

Jack’s sharp cries wake Castiel up with a start. He sits up and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself to just breathe. They’ve had the infant for eight days now. Eight days of no sleep. Eight days of walking around like a zombie. Eight days of bickering with Dean. Eight days without sex. 

 

_ He just wants to fucking sleep.  _

 

Throwing the blankets off, he slides out of the bed and hurries down the hall, knowing that the faster he soothes Jack to sleep, the faster he can get back to bed himself. 

 

“Alright buddy. We’re okay. It’s okay.” He checks his diaper, noticing that it’s dry, then grabs the pacifier that was tossed to the side and places it in his mouth. The baby rudely spits it out at him and begins to screech again. His angry fists and feet kick out like he’s trying to fight Castiel off. Despite the sleep deprivation and terrible mood, Castiel finds himself smiling. “You’ve got your daddy in you, little guy. I think I’m gonna regret that decision.” 

 

It’s a lie, of course. It took Dean and Castiel three months of fighting to decide who got to be the biological father for their surrogate. Dean was dead set against it being him. He didn’t want the poor kid to be riddled with the alcoholism gene. He was paranoid enough about being a shitty dad, he didn’t want the boy to be lonely and sad and fucked up from the very start. Castiel said that was all bullshit. That Dean would be a great father, and that their son or daughter would never be lonely or sad. He also assured him that he was not fucked up from the start. Hell, he was never fucked up, even at the end. Dean Winchester has always been perfect. 

 

Castiel was dead set on being the father because he was just really looking forward to a little one that looked like Dean. Big green eyes and goofy grin and freckles. So many freckles. Castiel may have been the nerd in high school, and graduated with honors in college, but Dean was the social one. The funny one. The adventurous, brave, happy, beautiful one. Castiel wasn’t worried like Dean was. He had good genes. Good parents. Good siblings. Okay, well, mostly good siblings. He wouldn’t be thrilled with his kid getting Gabriel’s genes.

 

No, Castiel wasn’t worried about that. He just knew he was the luckiest in the entire world for being the one to have Dean Winchester. He couldn’t think of anything better in his life than having a mini version. 

 

“And you look just like him, Jack,” Castiel whispers to the baby in his arms as he waits for the machine to warm the bottle of formula inside it. “Just like him. All you need is the freckles, but I think those will come. Either way, you’re beautiful. My beautiful boy.”

 

The baby scrunches his face at him, unimpressed with his sweet words. He just wants his damn bottle of formula. It’s almost like Castiel can hear a tiny little Dean voice bitching at him about being hungry. 

 

The warmer beeps and he grabs the bottle out of it, tilting it for a moment so some formula spills on his wrist. Once he’s checked that it’s warm but not hot, he places the nipple in the baby’s mouth. Jack makes a squeaky little sound of happiness and bats at the bottle with his fists as he sucks his formula down. 

 

“There ya go. That’s it.” Castiel yawns, then cracks one eye open to look at the oven clock. “Now, if you can just let daddy and papa sleep for four more hours, we’ll be so so happy baby boy. Can you do that? Nice dry diaper. Full belly. A good night, yeah? Everyone get some rest and it’ll be better in the morning. We can all cuddle on the couch and watch cartoons. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

 

Castiel reaches the edge of the crib, the bottle nearly empty now. “Wouldn’t it be nice to get some real sleep, Jack? Papa needs some sleep.”

 

The baby finishes his formula and almost immediately falls asleep, the nipple slipping from his tiny lips. Castiel places the empty bottle on the top of his dresser and presses a firm kiss to his forehead. “That’s it, baby. Sweet dreams.”

 

He places the baby down in the middle of the mattress and smiles down at him. “Good night, Jack. Angels are watching over you.”

  
  


**3:21 AM**

 

Dean trips over Castiel’s briefcase on the way out of the room and kicks it in frustration. “Fucking mess. This house is a mess.”

 

“Well maybe if you cleaned once in a fucking while!” Castiel yells from the bed where he’s still lying beneath the warm covers. 

 

“Maybe if I could fucking sleep.” 

 

“None of us are sleeping, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly working are you?” Dean scrunches his eyes up, immediately regretting that. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t - what you’re doing is still working, Cas. I know being home with Jack is important. I’m so thankful for you, baby. Your such a good papa to him.”

 

Castiel grumbles unintelligibly before throwing a pillow at him. “Just get him to bed so we can cuddle, asshole.”

 

Desperate to make sure things are okay between them, Dean nearly sprints down the hall and into Jack’s room. He threw the pacifier on the floor. Dean picks it up and slides it into the baby’s screaming mouth. Jack sucks at it like it’s oxygen, head rolling to the side as he falls back to sleep. 

 

Doing a silent fist pump in the air, Dean hurries back to the room. He makes sure to avoid the briefcase and pick up the pillow on his way back to the bed, since it was his. Castiel is half asleep but rolls over so he can bury his face against Dean’s chest. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers into his husband’s unruly hair. 

 

“Shhh,” Castiel presses a kiss to his chest and smiles against the bare skin. “Go to sleep, my love.”

  
  


**4:01 AM**

 

Castiel contemplates leaving the house and never turning back. He could get in the car, find somewhere to park, take a nap, and then drive. Drive far and fast away. No babies crying or crabby, mean husbands making him feel like some useless housewife. 

 

“Come on, Jack,” he grumbles, impatiently rocking back and forth. “You ate. You peed. You pooped. You ate. What else is there?”

 

Adjusting the baby, he cradles him to his chest and bounces instead of rocks, patting his bum. He hums some song he heard on the radio and mindlessly thinks of Shakespeare quotes and literary analysis, missing his college students. Missing being a professor. Hell, he even misses the monotony of grading the downright terrible freshman english papers, from students who are there for math and science and don’t give two shits about writing essays. 

 

Jack makes a choking sound and Castiel pulls him away, his heart skipping as he wonders if his baby is dying. A second later, the sound comes again, and Jack is projectile vomiting onto his chest.

 

_ Well, at least it wasn’t his face.  _

 

The baby hums appreciatively, then coos and lets his eyes flutter shut.

 

“Well,” Castiel whispers, sighing. “At least we solved the problem.”

 

He places the baby down in the crib, amazed that he doesn’t have any vomit at all on him, and kisses the air with a loud smooching sound. He puts the pacifier in his mouth and stumbles out of the room. 

 

“G’night. Angels sleepin’ over ya,” he mumbles, not even finishing the sentence until he’s in his own room again. 

 

It takes an awful lot of strength to move past the bed without getting in it, but he knows he has to clean up. When he gets into their attached bathroom, he squints in the bright light and starts to strip, feeling disgusting and sticky and smelly and fucking exhausted. He climbs into the tub and collapses, reaching over to slap at the faucet until the shower turns on, sending lukewarm water over him. He keeps the drain open and just lies back, using the wall as a pillow and closing his eyes. 

 

Just one minute. Then he’ll towel off and get in bed. 

  
  


**4:12 AM**

 

Knowing it’s his turn, Dean sits up in bed and yawns when he hears Jack the next time. He glances at Castiel’s side of the bed and smiles when he sees his husband already got up. _ God, he loves that man. _ He collapses against the pillow and smiles to himself, falling back asleep within seconds. 

  
  


**4:17 AM**

 

“Cas?” Dean mumbles, looking around the room, wondering why his husband still isn’t back. Wondering why the baby is still crying. 

 

He pushes off his blankets, getting tangled up in them and falling onto the floor. With a grunt and a few choice curse words, he kicks them off and gets back to his feet, stumbling down the hall. When he gets to Jack’s room, he notices his husband isn’t in it. 

 

_ Maybe he’s downstairs warming a bottle.  _

 

In the meantime, Dean reaches down and takes Jack into his arms. His diaper needs to be changed again. Like a robot, he removes the soiled diaper, wipes the baby with two wipes, one for his front and one for his back, then secures a new diaper on. He buttons up the pajamas and gives him a pacifier, relaxing when the baby goes back to sleep in his arms. 

 

He places Jack back in the crib and mumbles. “Night. Angel’s watchin’ over ya.” 

 

Dean goes downstairs to let Castiel know the bottle isn’t needed anymore, but he’s not there either. He has to tell his heart to calm the fuck down. Sometimes, in the middle of the night like this, thoughts flash in Dean’s mind. Thoughts of what it was like before Jack. Hell, before Castiel, even. One night stands with no responsibilities. Extra whiskey and beer. Food that was terrible for him, because he didn’t have a husband to bitch at him for being healthy. He wonders what it would be like to leave, but he doesn’t leave. He’s never left. He won’t ever leave. 

 

Castiel didn’t leave. 

 

Castiel  _ wouldn’t  _ leave. 

 

_ Dean yelled at him and made him feel like he was a fucking freeloader or something. What if he got upset? What if he feels unneeded? What if Dean finally did the thing he knew was coming all along? The thing that would fuck up his one chance at being happy?  _

 

“Cas?” Dean whisper shouts in a panic, walking through the house. By the time he reaches their bedroom, the very last place he checks, he’s crying. Fully crying. On the verge of sobbing.

 

_ He didn’t even leave a fucking note.  _

 

He starts searching for his phone and realizes it’s probably in the pocket of his jeans, which he took off to shower before bed last night. That’s when he steps closer to the bathroom and realizes the water is running.

 

Carefully, quietly, Dean pushes the bathroom door open. He peeks inside and his heart skips. “Oh, babe,” he whispers, even though Castiel clearly can’t hear him. 

 

Smiling in relief, Dean grabs a towel from the rack and walks up to the tub. He turns the water off and kneels on the bath mat. Castiel is sprawled out and snoring. He’s still wearing one sock. 

 

Dean’s never felt so in love in his entire life. 

 

“Baby, hey.” He reaches over and gently shakes him away. “Baby. Wake up.”

 

“No. Y’r tur’ ‘n Dee.” 

 

Chuckling, Dean whispers, “Yes, honey. My turn. Aren’t you cold? Let me help you to the bed.”

 

“Mmm.” Castiel bats his eyes to make the drops of water disappear from his lashes, then squints at Dean. “Cold. Bed.”

 

“Yeah. Cold. Bed. Come on.” He lifts Castiel, holding him up against him as he pulls him from the tub. He uses the towel to dry him off the best he can and helps him back into the bedroom. When they get to the edge of the mattress, Dean has him sit down and does another once over on his body with the towel, making sure to get his hair. “Jack puked on me.”

 

“And you needed to shower right at that moment?”

 

Castiel shrugs a shoulder and mumbles, “Gross.”

 

“God, I love you.”

 

“You too.”

 

Smiling, Dean guides him back until he’s lying down, tucking him in and placing a kiss on his forehead. Then he towels himself off from Castiel making him wet, thankful he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and crawls in beside him. Pulling him in nice and tight, Dean cradles him to his chest and closes his eyes. 

  
  


**4:33 AM**

 

Dean slips out of the bed, doing his best not to wake Castiel up. He storms into the nursery with a new give ‘em hell attitude. “Alright, Jack. Listen here. Last time. I’m going to take care of what’s wrong, I’m going to sing you my favorite song that grandma used to sing to me, and then you’re going to sleep until the sunshine is up. Okay? Not until the sun is up.”

 

He pauses like Jack can answer him, then nods. “Okay. Good plan.”

 

Clean diaper. Bottle. Pacifier. Bouncing. Rocking. Singing.

 

_ And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain _

_ Don't carry the world upon your shoulders _

_ For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool _

_ By making his world a little colder _

 

Movement catches Dean’s eye. He looks over at the doorway and smiles. His gorgeous husband is leaning a shoulder against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. Since he fell asleep with damp hair, half of it is sticking in all directions, the other half flattened. He scrunches his nose and winks at Dean when their eyes meet. 

 

_ I love you _ , he mouths across the room. 

 

Feeling warmth grow in his chest, Dean mouths back  _ I love you, too. _

 

Castiel joins him beside the crib as Dean gently places the baby down. He puts his pacifier in while Castiel turns the mobile on. Then Castiel wraps his arm around Dean’s waist, leaning into him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

 

“When you were in the shower, I couldn’t find you,” Dean admits in a hushed whisper. 

 

Castiel looks up at him with a frown. “Dean. Never. I will never leave you two.”

 

“Just.” Dean’s eyes dart back and forth between Castiel and Jack. When he finally settles back on Castiel, he’s pleading. “Promise?”

 

“Promise. I love you, Dean Winchester. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

 

“Okay. I knew that, I did. I just - I needed to hear it again.”

 

“I’ll tell you every single day if you need me to.”

 

Smiling, they both turn to stare down at their beautiful son. 

 

“Good night, Jack. Sleep well,” Dean whispers. 

 

Castiel leans his head against Dean’s shoulder and adds, “Angels are watching over you.” 

  
  


**8:46 AM**

 

Castiel opens his eyes and yawns, stretching an arm out. He lifts his head and squints at the alarm clock, shocked at the time. Dean is still asleep beside him, which means Jack must still be asleep. The worried papa in him makes him go check just in case. He peeks his head into the nursery and watches for a minute. When Jack’s leg involuntarily moves, meaning he’s still breathing, Castiel practically runs back to bed. 

 

He gets under the covers and curls up to his husband, smiling when Dean wraps around him like a damn spider monkey. 

 

“‘Vrythin’ okay?” Dean slurs. 

 

Castiel squeezes him tight and closes his eyes. “Yeah, babe. Everything’s perfect.”


End file.
